


fluff in five steps

by onlyone_cannoli



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: College AU, F/F, Fluff, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Wayhaught - Freeform, anyway talk to me about nicole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 11:55:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7933693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyone_cannoli/pseuds/onlyone_cannoli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>college au ft. history major waverly and basketball player nicole. fluff ensues, obviously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> happy reading!

I. Waverly

Barely two minutes into the call, Champ starts complaining in her ear. Waverly resists the urge to roll her eyes as she fishes for her keys. She tunes out Champ’s whining to unlock the front door of the coffee shop and pauses for a moment to wave to the manager, Tim, before heading to the back room to put her bag down.

“- Haven’t seen you in _weeks_ ,” Champ is saying, which Waverly translates as _haven’t gotten any in weeks_ \- “I mean, who needs this college thing anyway, you’re already so smart for a girl and - “

“Champ,” she interrupts, clenching her jaw and trying to keep her voice level, “I’m at work now and I am _not_ talking about this again. I’m here because I want to be and it makes me happy and that’s that. I’ll call you later, okay?”

She throws her phone into her bag without waiting for an answer and tugs on her blue work apron, smoothing it out and adjusting her blue cap in the mirror. The apron has the words _InSAMniac Coffee_ emblazoned on the front, hovering over a caricature of Sam, the owner, bug-eyed and holding a giant cup of coffee. It’s tacky and Waverly loves it. She smiles at herself in the mirror, determined not to start off the morning on the wrong foot. She feels bad about hanging up on Champ and shoots him a text - _love you, babe_ \- before heading out.

“Hey, Waverly,” Tim says, poking his head out from the kitchen next to the front counter.

“Good morning, Tim,” she says brightly, looking around. It’s her first day on the opening shift and she’s not quite sure what to do.

“Coffee’s all set to go,” Tim says as he drags out several trash bags from the kitchen toward the back door. “I’m gonna take out the trash, you mind just switching the panels? Got a new menu for the winter season.”

“Sure thing,” Waverly calls as she hears the back door slam; everyone knows “take out the trash” is Tim’s code for “ten minute smoke break”. She looks up at the panels featuring the current fall flavors hanging from the ceiling above the coffee pots - at least five or six feet above her head - and lets out a sigh. _Sure, save this job for the short one._

She drags out the tallest step-stool she can find, but it still leaves her barely able to reach the hooks dangling from the ceiling. She takes down the old panels with minimal effort, but getting the new ones on proves to be much more difficult. She’s just moved on to struggling with the second panel when the bell on the front door rings. She curses inwardly, a mild flutter of panic rising in her stomach.

“Sorry, I’ll be right with you!” she calls over her shoulder.

“No problem, take your time,” she hears a girl’s cheerful voice reply.

Waverly curses under her breath some more, still fumbling with the second hook. She goes up on her tiptoes, trying to maneuver the edge of the panel, when suddenly her foot slips a little off the stool and she inadvertently lets out a small squeal, hands flailing for balance.

“Whoa, you want help with that?”

The gate creaks, and suddenly a pair of hands relieves her of the panel and easily hooks it into place. Waverly regains her balance with one hand braced on a cabinet and finds herself face-to-face with a very tall, redheaded girl wearing a blue Eagles baseball cap, grinning at her with the biggest dimples Waverly’s ever seen.

“Thanks,” Waverly says, laughing embarrassedly. They’re nearly eye level. “I-I owe you one. Um - coffee on the house?”

The girl raises an eyebrow at her, still grinning. “You allowed to offer that - Waverly?” She squints a little as she reads off Waverly’s name tag.

Waverly laughs again, fidgeting with her fingers. “Well, no, I guess not. Coffee on me, then, I guess?”

The girl’s grin gets a little wider, crinkling the edges of her eyes. “Coffee on you? Like, you’re offering to take me on a coffee date?”

“I - what?” Waverly nearly loses her balance on the stool again, and the girl quickly reaches out to steady her, laughing. “No, I - I just meant - “

The girl waves a dismissive hand, shaking her head. “Nah, don’t worry about it. Helping beautiful baristas free of charge is all part of the morning routine.”

Waverly _knows_ its a joke, but there’s something so sincere and open about the way the girl is looking at her, head slightly tilted, that Waverly is momentarily lost for words. They both simultaneously seem to remember that the girl’s hand is still on Waverly’s arm; Waverly quickly steps down from the stool, another nervous laugh escaping her.

“Um,” she says, floundering, feeling the flush creep up into her cheeks, “you should, um, go back around, my manager will kill me if he sees you back here.”

“Who, Tim?” the girl laughs, but she obliges, making her way back around to the front of the counter. Waverly quickly nudges the stool out of sight and swallows hard against her fluttering heart, which seems to have jumped into her throat.

“Tim’s a big softie,” the girl continues as she picks up her bag and steps up to the register, “although he might want to consider making someone a little less vertically challenged switch out those panels.”

Before Waverly can make a retort about short jokes (nothing new, of course, but it always makes her indignant), Tim returns with a slam of the back door.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Miss Haughtshot!” he booms as he joins them at the counter and high fives the girl. “What’re you doing out so early?”

“Got a morning run in,” the girl replies, shrugging her bag a little higher on her shoulder. “Getting ready for the season opener next week, you know. Thought I’d stop by for some of this irresistible coffee before class.” She winks at Waverly. Waverly’s heart flutters again.

“Good, good,” Tim says, oblivious to the mild cardiac crisis his employee is having next to him. “We finally gonna beat those Raptors this year?”

“You can count on it. I’m not graduating with the shame of defeat four years in a row.”

“That’s the spirit,” Tim says, then startles Waverly as he claps her on the shoulder. “Earp, you take good care of Nicole here, she’s gonna win us a championship. You have a good one, now!”

“Thanks, Tim, you too!” Nicole calls as Tim disappears into the kitchen.

Waverly clears her throat as Nicole looks at her again. _Get yourself together, Waverly._ “So, you’re kind of a big deal, huh, Hotshot?” she says, hoping her nonchalance - _she is nonchalant_ \- is evident in her voice.

Nicole leans forward a little with her elbow resting on the pastry display. She shrugs, flashing her dimples. “Kind of. Basketball.” She points to the embroidered basketball on the left side of her sweatshirt, under the number 11.

“I figured,” Waverly says with a smile. She gestures with a hand at the difference in height between them, easily half a foot.

Nicole just nods, still looking at her with a faint, faraway grin on her face.

Waverly feels her palms getting sweaty. “So…um, coffee?”

Nicole starts a little, standing up straight again. “Oh, um, yeah. Medium, house blend, one sugar. Please.”

Waverly turns around to fill the order, thankful for a chance to gather her composure. She takes a deep breath before facing Nicole again.

“So I haven’t seen you around before, Waverly,” Nicole says as Waverly sets the cup down on the counter. “Earp, Tim said? New hire?”

“Waverly Earp, the one and only,” Waverly says, ringing up the coffee. “Literally,” she adds at the look on Nicole’s face. “I’m the only Waverly Earp in the country. I googled it. Once. A couple years ago, so maybe not anymore. And I’m not new, I used to work in the afternoon, I just picked up the morning shift. Because of classes. I always go to class.”

She knows she’s rambling but she can’t stop, because Nicole is grinning at her again and Waverly’s heart is fluttering. Maybe she _is_ having a heart attack.

“Oh, I better make this a regular then,” Nicole says as she hands her a five, and Waverly is absurdly proud of herself for not letting her hand shake as she takes it.

“I’ll be here,” she says, probably a little too brightly, and hands Nicole her change. She silently thanks god as the bell on the door rings again and a group of students walks in, chattering loudly.

“Well, Waverly Earp,” Nicole says, pocketing the change, “if you’re into basketball at all, you should come to a game sometime.”

“Oh, I’m, uh, not really into sports,” Waverly says quickly, shaking her head.

Nicole shrugs, picking up her coffee and flashing another heart-fluttering grin. “Maybe I can convince you otherwise. And don’t forget, I’m taking a raincheck on that coffee date.”

Nicole excuses herself before Waverly can protest, leaving Waverly to stare after her. The fluttering in her heart seems to have spread to the rest of the organs in her body, and she vaguely wonders if that’s a bad thing. She decides she doesn’t really care.

“Hey,” a voice says impatiently, and Waverly jumps. There’s a boy waiting in line, waving his hand in her face. “You gonna take my order or what?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nicole makes a late night run to the library and runs into one particular vertically-challenged history major nerding it out on the third floor. waverly tries to get out of a coffee date.

II. Nicole

The first away game of the season is tomorrow and Nicole is sitting on her bed, only slightly focused on packing and mostly thinking about the way Waverly Earp’s smile crinkles her eyes when she hands Nicole her coffee. Nicole feels a grin spreading over her face, remembering how well Waverly’s dangling turquoise earrings had complimented her sparkling eyes and the way her high-waisted pants accentuated her - 

“Yo, Nic.”

Rhian suddenly pokes her head into the room, startling Nicole out of her reverie. She has to grab the nightstand to catch herself from falling off the bed, and Rhian raises an eyebrow at her. “You good there?”

“Fine, yeah,” Nicole says quickly, throwing two extra pairs of socks into her bag to show how  _not_ distracted she is. “What’s up?”

“When’s that report for Criderman due?”

Nicole knits her eyebrows, trying to clear her head. “Um…Wednesday?” she says, then groans suddenly as she looks at her watch. “Which reminds me, I forgot to pick up that book after practice.”

“God, you’re such a nerd,” Lauren says affectionately as she passes by, carrying a basket of laundry to her room. "Who reads books?"

“You’re not _seriously_ going to the library right now,” Rhian says exasperatedly, but Nicole is already throwing a sweatshirt on. “It’s  _Criderman_ , he literally gives zero shits.”

“Okay, but I actually want to be a cop,” Nicole says pointedly. “So I feel like doing well in Criminal Law is kinda important.”

“Just let her be the nerd that she is,” Lauren says, reappearing in Nicole’s doorway and rolling her eyes.

“I guess that’s a fair point, Officer Haught,” Rhian says, making a finger gun and pretending to blow smoke from the tip. “Haught  _damn_.”

Nicole throws a sock at Rhian’s head.

“Okay but how much you wanna bet there’s  _another_  reason Haught’s going to the library,” Lauren says slyly, waggling her eyebrows at Nicole.

Rhian mockingly clutches a hand to her chest. “There’s a girl! Secret midnight rendez-vous?”

Nicole, now impervious to her roommates’ gallant efforts to find her a girlfriend for the past three years, just rolls her eyes. “There’s no girl.”

_Not at the library, anyway._

Lauren casually leans against the wall and extends an arm across Nicole’s doorway, barring her exit. “You know you’re probably the worst liar I’ve ever met, right?” She nudges Rhian in the ribs. “There’s totally a girl at the library.”

“I bet it’s that IT girl,” Rhian nods in agreement.

“No way, it’s the girl at the desk. The blonde one.”

“Ooh, true. She’s cute. Definitely into you.”

“I swear, Nic, if we lose tomorrow because you’ve spent all night making rainbow heart eyes with library chick - “

“There  _is_  no library chick,” Nicole says exasperatedly, grabbing her keys off the dresser and shoving past them. “Good _bye.”_

“We expect you home by 11, young lady!” Lauren shouts after her, and Nicole can’t help but grin as she catches a glimpse of Rhian making kissy faces at her before she shuts the door to their apartment.

Nicole makes it to campus in just over five minutes and sprints from the parking lot to the library. She waves cheerily at the girl at the desk before heading for the stairs, climbing them two at a time to the third floor. It takes her another five minutes to find her book and she’s halfway back to the stairs when she suddenly notices a girl at the end of an aisle in the history section, standing up on a stool on her tiptoes with her outstretched hand struggling to reach the top shelf.

Nicole chuckles to herself. She starts down the aisle to help when the girl suddenly drops back down on her heels, loosening the scarf around her neck and flipping her hair impatiently over her shoulder as she looks up at the unattainable book.

Nicole stops in her tracks and swears her heart stops for a beat or two. Maybe three. 

_Waverly Earp._

She stares for a moment, trying to catch the breath that suddenly seems to have escaped her body. She slowly starts walking forward again, careful not to alert Waverly to her presence, and stops several feet away. Then, without thinking, she reaches up over Waverly’s head and plucks the book off the shelf.

“Hey!” Waverly cries indignantly. She spins around on the stool a little too fast and instinctively reaches out a hand to steady herself, grabbing the closest solid structure - Nicole’s shoulder.

Waverly’s eyes widen in recognition, pink coloring her cheeks as she quickly retracts her hand. Nicole takes a moment to thank god she’s wearing a loose-fitting sweatshirt; she’s very certain Waverly would be able to see her heart pounding out of her chest otherwise.

“Nicole! What are you doing here?”

“Thought you could use some help,” Nicole says, stepping back a little and flashing Waverly a grin. “Again. Maybe you should consider stilts?”

Waverly crosses her arms. “I don’t think we know each other well enough for you to keep making short jokes like that. Not without there being some serious repercussions.”

Nicole feels her face split into an even wider grin. “Well, if the repercussions include getting to know you better, I might not have any inclination to stop.”

Waverly’s cheeks get a shade darker and she ducks her head a little, burying her chin in the layers of scarves around her neck. Nicole just grins, tucking Waverly’s book under her arm and offering a hand to help her step down from the stool.

After a moment’s hesitation, Waverly accepts the help and gingerly steps down. She looks up at Nicole and puts a hand on her hip. “It’s really not nice to make fun of people, you know,” she says, and Nicole is afraid she’s actually made Waverly angry until she notices the corner of Waverly’s mouth twitching upward.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend,” Nicole apologizes anyway, leaning back against the shelf behind her and hooking her thumbs into her belt. “No more jokes, I promise.”

“Thank you,” Waverly says, nodding her head a little, and Nicole catches a smile playing on her lips.

A wave of boldness takes hold of Nicole and she continues, without thinking again, “So how about we just get to know each other then? How about over that coffee you owe me?”

Waverly snaps her head up. “I don’t -” she starts to sputter loudly, then abruptly seems to remember that they’re still in a library and lowers her voice to an indignant whisper-shout. “You said not to worry about it! You can’t do take backs!”

Nicole decides she thoroughly enjoys indignant Waverly. “That’s not very good customer service,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “I remember there being a raincheck on this coffee date.”

Waverly soundlessly opens and shuts her mouth for a moment before she suddenly blurts, “I - I’m in a relationship. With a boy. I have a boyfriend.”

Nicole rocks back a little on her heels, feeling her gut plummeting to the floor. She quickly tries to cover it up with a grin, nodding sagely. “Ah,” she says, still nodding. “My bad.” She casually turns on her heel and starts back down the aisle, pulling out Waverly’s book from under her arm and reading the title out loud, “ _The Great America: An Untold History_.” She looks back at Waverly following behind her, fidgeting with the ends of her scarf and looking as if she’d just told Nicole she’d run over her puppy. “History major, I take it?”

They both stop at the table where Waverly’s left her bag, papers and folders strewn amidst several stacks of books. Waverly nods. “How’d you know?”

“Only history majors take American History with Del Rey, and only Del Rey makes people read this book.” Nicole holds out said book for Waverly and winks at her before adding, “And only nerds actually read it.”

Waverly takes the proffered book with a sniff. “I believe the phrase is, ‘ _takes one to know one_.’ Which begs the question - what are  _you_  doing here?”

“You just said it,” Nicole laughs, showing Waverly her criminology book. “I am a fellow nerd.”

“Criminal justice?” Waverly asks in surprise.

“You didn’t think I was just here to play basketball, did you?” Nicole says, raising an eyebrow.

Waverly ducks her head again, color flushing up her cheeks. “Sorry, I didn’t mean - I just - it seems like you’re always at practice or something.”

The intercom crackles to life before Nicole can reply. “ _The library will close in 15 minutes. Please bring all books to the front desk at this time. Again, the library will close in 15 minutes.”_

Waverly makes a small squeaking noise and glances at her watch. “Shit,” she mumbles. “I didn’t realize it was so late.” She hurriedly starts to shove books and papers into her bag.

Nicole looks around the table for a moment, internally debating whether or not she should help, then suddenly looks back at Waverly in surprise. “Wait, you don’t have a coat or anything?”

Waverly shrugs, pausing for a moment to pull her thin cardigan around herself a little tighter. “It was so nice out during the day, I forgot it this morning at the coffee shop.”

“You’ll freeze to death!” Nicole exclaims. “And you’ve got all your stuff. Can I give you a ride home?”

Waverly quickly shakes her head. “No, no, I’ll be fine. I don’t live that far away.”

“The dorms are at least a ten minute walk from here,” Nicole says. “I assume you live in the dorms?”

Waverly nods. “Yes, but - “

Nicole isn’t listening. She tugs her sweatshirt off and holds it out to Waverly. “Freshly laundered, I promise.”

Waverly blushes again, but adamantly shakes her head. “Thank you, but I couldn’t. You’ll freeze, too.”

“I have a car, and I’d be outside for a total of thirty seconds,” Nicole points out. “If you won’t let me drive you home, please at least take the sweatshirt. You can give it back the next time I get coffee.”

“It’s fine, really,” Waverly assures her as she quickly resumes packing her books into her bag. “I’m a fast walker. And it gets pretty cold where I’m from, so I’m used to it. And I have great circulation. So I’ll be - dammit!”

Waverly stops mid-ramble as she accidentally sweeps a pile of papers off the table. “Oh, no, it’s okay,” she says as Nicole quickly crouches down to pick them up, “They’re all just scrap, it’s okay…”

Nicole is already half under the table, trying to retrieve stray papers when she suddenly seizes on an idea. She sneaks one of the blank sheets from the pile before she hands it back to Waverly, and quickly scribbles something on it before slipping it into the pocket of her sweatshirt.

“All right, then,” she says as she stands back up, brushing off her hands and grinning as Waverly embarrassedly stuffs the last of the papers in her bag. “I have an eleven o’clock curfew, so I have to go. And I’m not saying you have to wear it, but I’m leaving this here. And if you ever change your mind, you know how to reach me.”

Without waiting for a reply, Nicole drops her sweatshirt on the table and wheels around, heading for the stairs. She’s counting on Waverly being too polite to shout after her and cause a ruckus in the library, but Nicole races down and through the self-checkout anyway. Sure enough, she makes it outside without seeing hide nor hair of anyone behind her.

She slows down to a walk across the parking lot with her heart beating like a drumline against her ribs. A chill breeze whips through the air, but the thought of Waverly Earp walking home in her sweatshirt makes her feel far too giddy to care about the cold. She thinks about the way Waverly ducks her chin into her scarf as she drives home, and Nicole knows that if she wasn’t in too deep yesterday, she’s definitely past the point of no return now.

* * *

Halfway across campus with the wind biting through her clothes, Waverly Earp speed-walks back toward the dorms, hugging her books to her chest with one hand and carrying Nicole’s sweatshirt in the other. She stops for a moment to blow on her fingers and _swears_  she will never forget her coat again. She shifts her bag to her other shoulder, then looks down at Nicole’s sweatshirt, trying to decide if her pride is really worth the potential for frostbite.

_Oh, fuck it._

She drops her bag on the ground and pulls on the sweatshirt, which smells faintly of vanilla and lavender, and immediately marvels at how soft and warm it feels. She slips her hands into the big front pocket and, surprisedly, pulls out a folded piece of paper.

Waverly considers it for a moment, then wonders if it might be something important. Unfolding it carefully, she sees a phone number written on the top, with something else scrawled underneath.

_Told you you'd know how to reach me._

Waverly feels herself grinning, a completely unwarranted fuzzy and warm sensation trickling out from the center of her chest and spreading to the rest of her body. She ducks her chin into her scarf and picks up her bag again when she notices another line of writing at the bottom:

_P.S. I knew you’d look :)_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nicole is MIA and champ is a dick. waverly struggles with both.

III. Waverly

Waverly brings Nicole’s sweatshirt to the coffee shop the next morning, but Nicole doesn’t show during her shift that day. Or the day after, or the day after that.

At first, Waverly thinks it might be a ploy. After a week, she starts to wonder if she should be concerned. She keeps the paper with Nicole’s number tucked in her pocket despite the fact that she’s probably memorized it by now, given the number of times she’s punched it into her phone, but every conversation starter she can think of seems grossly inadequate for the situation (not that she knows what exactly this situation  _is_ ) and she always ends up staring at the blank text for a moment before she deletes it, palms sweaty and heart a-flutter.

In the meantime, November howls in with a storm that blankets the campus in heavy snow, and Waverly starts forgoing the mile-long trek to the library to study in the warmth of her dorm. Tonight is no different, except that Waverly can’t seem to focus.

Nicole hasn’t come by the coffee shop in eight days now (not that she’s counting) and Waverly keeps catching herself glancing toward her bed, where she’s stashed Nicole’s sweatshirt under her pillow. (This is for practical purposes, of course - she and Chrissy share clothes often enough that Chrissy would stumble upon it immediately if Waverly left it in her closet.)

But it doesn’t help that she’s always loved the scent of vanilla.

Waverly shakes her head irritably and turns back to her book. She reads the same sentence three times before she finally gives up, turning to Chrissy and asking (very casually, of course), “So what do you know about the Raptors?”

“The Raptors?” Chrissy repeats, looking up from her laptop. “They’re our biggest rival for football and basketball. And they’re the only team women’s basketball has lost to three years in a row - which you’d  _know_  if you’d come to the game with me last year instead of writing that history paper all night in the library.” Chrissy rolls her eyes, then squints at her suspiciously. “Why? I thought you hated sports?”

Waverly shrugs indifferently. She’d gotten top marks on that paper, thank you very much. “I don’t  _hate_  sports, I just don’t find them to be very interesting.”  _Although I suppose I could be convinced otherwise…_  “But Tim was talking about them last week, with this girl on the team who came into the coffee shop. Nicole.”

Chrissy sits up this time, her pen falling out of her mouth. “Haught?”

“Definitely,” Waverly agrees, without thinking. “Uh, I mean, yes,” she amends hurriedly. “That’s her name. Haught. Nicole Haught.”

Chrissy leans forward excitedly, oblivious to Waverly’s slip-up. “You _met_ Nicole Haught?”

“Um…yeah?” Waverly crosses her arms. “Why’s everyone so excited about her? I mean, sure, she’s nice and all, but it’s not like she’s - ”

“Oh my  _god_ ,” Chrissy interrupts, snapping her laptop shut and saving Waverly from having to finish that sentence with the words that had popped unbidden into her head -  _extremely charmingly confident? Got the most radiant and irresistible smile I’ve ever_  - 

“She’s  _only_  the best shooting guard the school’s ever seen,” Chrissy is saying, ticking off the major points on her fingers. “She’s the youngest player to ever become captain when she was a sophomore, she holds the school records for 3-pointers  _and_  free throws  _and_  assists - I mean, they’ve been talking about recruiting her for the WNBA!”

Waverly looks at her. “And I’m guessing those are all really good things?”

“Seriously, Waves,” Chrissy groans. “We should go to a game sometime. The Raptors game is next week!”

“Maybe,” Waverly says with a noncommittal shrug. She turns back to her book, steadfastly ignoring both Chrissy’s grumbling and the urge to look at her pillow.

* * *

Waverly lands a research position with a linguistics expert in the archaeology department and goes back to spending every night of the week in the library, poring over textbooks on ancient languages and hieroglyphics.

Champ complains about it.

“Wait, so what’s the  _point_?” he asks as she’s walking home one night. His words sound slurred and she can hear the unmistakable clanging of the jukebox at Shorty’s in the background and she  _knows_  he’s supposed to be working in the morning. “It’s not a class and you don’t get paid, that’s so  _dumb_.”

“It’s research,” she explains for what feels like the twentieth time. “It’s fascinating, I mean, you’re looking at how language developed thousands of years ago.”

“But it’s all dead stuff! Like who cares?”

“ _I_  care,” Waverly says, her grip tightening around her phone. “Studying the origins of communication lets you - ”

She stops suddenly, because the rowdy laughter is getting louder and Champ is yelling at someone and it’s clear that he’s not listening.

“Champ, are you drunk?”

“‘Course I’m not  _drunk_ , Wave, I’ve just had a few beers.”

“You’re working at the ranch in like six hours.”

“I’m just hanging with the boys at Shorty’s, you know how it is,” Champ says dismissively, and he’s still laughing and Waverly feels her temper rising.

“Well if you’re going to spend all night drinking with  _the boys_  then don’t bother calling, Champ.”

“Oh come on, Wave. Don’t be like that.”

“Be like what?” she demands. “I didn’t realize it’d be too much to ask you to pay attention to a phone call that  _you_  initiated.”

“We’re just having fun,” Champ says, and his voice acquires an accusatory whine that only serves to make Waverly angrier. “You used to like having fun too, you know, before this whole college thing.”

“Well excuse  _me_  for trying to do something with my life and aspiring to be more than just a barmaid,” Waverly spits out. “I’m glad  _you’re_  complacent with the idea of being a Purgatory ranch hand forever and drinking away your income at Shorty’s!”

She hangs up before Champ can respond and seethes for a minute in the middle of the sidewalk before she continues home, surprised that she isn’t leaving a trail of melted snow in her wake from how hot her blood is boiling.

Waverly wants him to call and apologize but expects him not to, and he doesn’t. And maybe it’s the stress of upcoming finals, or the fact that she thinks she’s given herself whiplash from how often she turns her head toward the door every time the bell rings at the coffee shop, or maybe she’s  _just done_ , but the next time Champ calls to complain, Waverly snaps.

“We’re done, Champ,” she declares, and almost doesn’t care that it’s insensitive to finally break up with him over the phone.

Chrissy is ecstatic about this turn of events and drags her out to celebrate her newfound “freedom”. Waverly doesn’t even protest that much, even though it’s a Wednesday night and she has Medieval Religions at 9am. She loses track of how many shots Chrissy pushes into her hands and they stumble back to the room at an ungodly hour, Waverly fumbling on her phone with clumsy fingers to set alarms. Chrissy throws a pillow at her head, mumbling something that sounds suspiciously like “nerd” and promptly passes out on a blanket on the floor. Waverly manages to crawl into her bed, shivering; they’d left the window cracked open and the winter air is seeping into their room. With an uncoordinated sweep of her hand, Waverly finds a sweatshirt balled up near her pillow and drunkenly tugs it on over her head before she falls asleep, dreaming of basketballs and redheads.

She’s jolted awake just before six by her alarm ringing shrilly in her ear. She groans and rolls over to shut it off, and the faint scent of vanilla wafts up and tickles her nose.

_Nicole._

It takes her a moment, in the haze of her hangover, to connect the vanilla with the sweatshirt that she’s still wearing and the image of the redheaded basketball player that’s popped into her head, but when she does, she makes a decision.

She half-falls out of bed, trying not to make too much noise, but Chrissy is too used to her getting ready for work in the mornings to stir. Waverly pulls off Nicole’s sweatshirt and replaces it with her poofy winter coat, throws on an extra scarf for good measure, tucks Nicole’s neatly folded sweatshirt under her arm, and heads outside.

Fifteen minutes later, she’s standing in front of the athletic complex on the other side of campus, wondering why the hell her heart is beating so fast. She briefly wonders if she might still be drunk, but it definitely feels like the winter wind has swept out the lasting cobwebs of alcohol from her head.

She breathes in a deep lungful of cold air and takes a moment to pray that the basketball player in her Roman Civilizations class hadn’t been lying when she’d told Waverly that you could usually find Nicole on the track in the mornings.

_It’s fine. You can do this. This is totally fine._

She wanders in, following the signs to an indoor track on the second floor that overlooks the main basketball court. There are two boys running laps, their pounding footsteps echoing in the empty arena. Waverly pauses and glances around, feeling sorely out of place and wondering if she should just suck it up and  _call_  Nicole already, when she suddenly spots a lone figure at the bottom of the stadium stairs.

Waverly leans over the railing to watch as the figure suddenly launches herself up the stairs, taking them two at a time. She continues across the length of the arena, bounding up and down each set of stairs between the bleacher seats, and as she gets closer Waverly can see a red braid bouncing around her shoulders.

Nicole finishes the last set and slows down to a jog as she rounds the corner toward Waverly. She’s fiddling with her phone and doesn’t look up until she’s barely five or six feet away. They make eye contact, and Nicole looks confused for a moment before the recognition dawns on her face; Waverly gives a tentative wave, letting out the breath she doesn’t know she’s been holding.

Nicole comes to an abrupt stop, pulling her earbuds out.

“Waverly Earp,” she says, that familiar grin spreading over her face. She wipes her chin with the bottom of her shirt, affording Waverly a glimpse of Nicole’s six-pack abs. “How’d you know I was here?”

“Um,” Waverly says. “One of your teammates is in my Roman Civilization class. She said you’re usually here in the mornings.” She glances around the track again, then looks back at Nicole, and can’t help but notice the way her tight-fitting, sweat-drenched t-shirt accentuates the muscles in her shoulders and arms. “You, um, you really do this every day?”

“I try,” Nicole says with a shrug. “It gets kinda hard during the season with games and traveling and all, but you gotta do what you gotta do.”

Waverly remembers what Chrissy had said about the WNBA (she’d had to Google that) and feels her eyebrows shoot up. “Even on top of school and everything?”

“I grew up with two  _very_  competitive brothers,” Nicole says with a laugh. “You learn that if there’s something you want, you gotta fight for it.” She winks. “And I always plan on winning.”

“Oh,” is all Waverly can think to say.

Nicole leans against the railing, still grinning. “So what brings you down here? I’m sure it wasn’t to watch me run, though I’d sure be flattered if you did.”

Waverly starts to feel very warm in her winter coat. She tugs on her scarf, loosening its wrap around her neck. “Um,” she says. “I- I’m not working today, so I just thought I would, uh…” She feels the panic creeping up in her chest a little, because  _I just wanted to check on you_  seems so lame now that she sees Nicole in front of her, clearly very healthy and very alive. She clears her throat and instead goes for, “You haven’t gotten coffee in a while.”

Nicole nods sagely and raises an eyebrow. “Were you worried?”

“What? No! I- I mean, I’m sure you were fine, it’s just that I thought, uh…you could be in withdrawal.”

Waverly resists the urge to kick herself.

Nicole just grins. “I could be.”

“From the caffeine,” Waverly clarifies unnecessarily.

“From the caffeine,” Nicole agrees. “Although I think I’ll get my fix today.” Her dimples flash again and Waverly’s heart skips a couple beats.

She swallows hard and brusquely holds out Nicole’s sweatshirt before she can further embarrass herself. “You said you’d be back for it.”

Nicole looks down in surprise, as if she’d forgotten. Something suddenly flickers in her eyes and she turns away a little, making no move to take the sweatshirt back. “Right. Yeah, sorry about that,” she says, fidgeting with the cord of her headphones. “I, um…I had to go out of town for a couple days.”

The shift in Nicole’s demeanor isn’t lost on Waverly. She lets her arm drop back down to her side. “Is…everything okay?”

Nicole twists the cord around her fingers, staring intently at a spot on the ground. “Yeah. Sorta. I mean - well, no.” She takes a deep breath and lets it out in a long sigh. “My grandpa died. Last week. So I had to go take care of the, uh…arrangements. I just got back a couple days ago, but everything’s still kinda…surreal.” She shrugs a little. “Which is kinda the reason I’ve been running so much, I guess. Helps clear my head.”

Sweatshirt forgotten, Waverly steps forward into the space between them and puts a hand on Nicole’s arm. “I’m so sorry, Nicole,” she says softly.

She feels the muscles in Nicole’s arm tense a little at the sudden contact, but she doesn’t pull away. She finally raises her head to meet Waverly’s gaze, and Waverly is slightly stricken to see the sadness in Nicole’s eyes. “He, um, was really the one who took care of me through high school,” she elaborates with another small, hopeless shrug. “Cause my parents, they’re - well, my dad’s dead, and my mom…I haven’t really talked to her in a while, and my brother Jesse flew in late and got into this huge fight with my stepdad, so he refused to go to the funeral, and it was all just…kind of a big stinkin’ mess.”

Nicole says this all very quickly and suddenly seems to realize that she’s been rambling. She laughs ruefully and rubs the back of her neck. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dump that all on you. It’s just been a rough coupla days.”

“No, it’s okay,” Waverly insists, shaking her head. “You can - ” She pauses, because she had been about to say  _you can tell me anything_ , but that’s ridiculous because they hardly know each other - “You can dump all you want. It’s good for you. Good for your soul, I mean. And I know a thing or two about wacky families, so don’t feel bad about dumping on me. I’m like - a landfill.”

Waverly clamps her mouth shut and briefly considers flinging herself over the railing.

A smile flickers on Nicole’s face. “I’m fine, really,” she says, “but I appreciate that. It was hard being home, but it’s better here. Basketball helps.”

Waverly nods. She remembers that her hand is still on Nicole’s arm, and they both look down but neither of them moves. A strange sense of boldness takes hold of Waverly as she looks back up at Nicole. “Well. I know you probably have lots of friends, you being a hotshot and all… but if there’s, um, anything I can do…just let me know.”

Nicole’s smile reaches her eyes. “I sincerely appreciate that, Waverly Earp.”

“And I do make some mean chocolate chip cookies, if I do say so myself. And in my experience, there really isn’t much that chocolate can’t fix.”

“That does sound like an offer I might not be able to refuse,” Nicole concedes, and now they’re grinning at each other and Waverly sees some of that familiar mischievous spark reignite in Nicole’s eyes. “Although if you’re insisting, there might be something else.” She nods toward the sweatshirt that’s still in Waverly’s hands. “You could keep the sweatshirt.”

Waverly stares at her. “What? No, no, I couldn’t.”

“You should,” Nicole grins. “I mean, not forever. Just until tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? What’s tomorrow?” Waverly asks in consternation.

“The game. You can wear it, you know, show some school spirit.”

“You…you mean the Raptors game?”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Nicole says, not waiting for an answer as she suddenly pulls away and breaks into a jog, leaving Waverly to stare after her with her mouth hanging open. Nicole looks back over her shoulder, still grinning, and flashes her a thumbs up as she shouts, “Seven o’clock. I’ll see you there!”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> waverly attends her first basketball game and nicole almost fights a bitch. (also i don't claim to know about basketball in the slightest, so if i royally fucked anything up feel free to let me know.)

IV. Nicole

Nicole is the first one to the locker room, as always.

Her pre-game playlist pounds in her ears as she circles around the room, lightly tapping each of her teammates’ lockers with her fist as she walks past them. She sets her bag down and pulls out her neatly folded game jersey, lays it on the bench, takes two bites of her chocolate and pomegranate granola bar, and sits down on the ground to untie and retie the laces on her shoes.

(Nicole doesn’t consider herself a superstitious person, but there is a certain comfort in routine, and after four years, she hardly thinks the night of the biggest game of her final season is the time to change anything.)

The rest of the team trickles in after half an hour, and Nicole leads the way out to the court to warm up. She can already sense the nervous energy buzzing amongst her teammates, and for a while the only sound in the empty arena is the pounding echo of balls as they run drills. Nicole feels her own giddy anticipation pulsing through her veins as the team slowly relaxes into their normal rhythm, and the air is filled with their usual banter and jokes by the time she gestures for everyone to regroup in the locker room.

Nicole takes a deep breath, trying to settle her racing heart as everyone huddles in around her; she’s been captain for three years now, but she still gets a little nervous in these moments.

“This is it,” she starts, looking around, and everyone immediately falls silent. Lauren and Rhian, fellow seniors who have suffered through the pain of defeat alongside her for the past three seasons, nod along in determination. The other two starters, Chan and Sarah, are only sophomores and still a little new to the rivalry, but their eager faces are bright with excitement.

“This is what we’ve been working for. All the early mornings and late nights, all the sprints and bruises and jammed fingers and Nedley’s terrible jokes” - scattered chuckles at that - “everything comes down to this game. We are the team that’s finally gonna take the Raptors down. We’ve had an amazing season so far, and you guys have made me more than proud to be your captain, so let’s finish this out strong and take back that regional title tonight, once and for all.”

“Aye aye, Cap’n,” Rhian says with a fierce grin and mock salute. “Let’s stomp on some biddies.”

Earnest nods and enthusiastic murmurs of agreement ripple through the team.

“All right,” Nicole says, punching her fist into her open palm. “Let’s do this.” She extends her hand into the middle of their circle, and eleven hands pile on top of hers as the thunderous cheer echoes in the room: “ _Eagles!”_

The game is supposedly sold out, and if the rumble of shouts and cheers spilling out from the arena is anything to judge by, Nicole doesn’t doubt it. She takes another deep breath and briefly takes a moment to wonder if Waverly Earp will be in the stands before she steps out onto the court.

The game starts off slow, as if both teams are too wary to make the first move. It picks up a little through the second quarter with a rapid succession of lay-ups and counter-attacks and breakaways from both teams; Nicole manages to sink a few three-pointers and Chan gets the crowd riled up with a flashy slam dunk, and they end the half with an uneasy five point lead.

Nedley tries to rally them with his usual half-time speech. “You girls gotta get aggressive. Get  _hungry_. Find the spaces and work the ball, work with each other. I know there’s been a lot of hype about tonight but in the end, it’s just another game. Just another game that you’re gonna win.”

They start the second half with renewed energy, and soon pull ahead by another ten points - which is when it starts getting dirty. At first, it’s just the Raptor guarding Chan who starts pushing her around. Chan handles it well, but the rest of the team starts to respond with matched aggression despite Nicole’s insistence that they keep the plays clean.

Nicole starts to feel her own ire rising after the fourth foul in just as many minutes. She steps up to take the free throw, and the loud cheers and boos from the crowd fade out. It’s a skill she’s perfected over the past three years - zoning out the distractions, being in the moment. 

As she’s about to shoot, though, one of the Raptors to her left mutters something at the last second that shakes her.

“ _Dyke._ ”

The ball veers wide, glancing off the basket and bouncing out of bounds. Nicole whips her head around to find the offending Raptor, number 16, jeering at her. Nicole’s teammates are looking at her in surprise - she never misses free throws like that - but Rhian had heard, too.

“What’d you just say?” Rhian demands, getting up in number 16’s face before anyone can stop her. Chan grabs her arm, trying to pull her away, but number 16 isn’t backing down and Nicole knows that Rhian will never say no to a fight. Especially not when her friends are on the line.

“You heard me,” number 16 sneers.

“Say it again, punk,” Rhian growls, trying to shake off Chan’s grip. “Say it to my  _face_.”

Nicole and Lauren are there now, getting in between them.

“It’s  _fine_ , Rhian,” Nicole mutters, gently pushing her back. Rhian starts to turn away, shaking her head in disgust, but number 16 has to have the last word and she directs it at Nicole.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. A dyke  _and_  a coward.”

Not even Nicole and Lauren are fast enough to stop Rhian from lunging forward again.

“That’s  _it_ ,” she snarls, and shoves number 16 in the chest hard enough to make her stumble backward and hit the floor.

Everything erupts at once.

Number 16 is back on her feet in a flash; she catches Rhian with a glancing blow to the chin before the rest of the Raptors converge around her, and Lauren and Chan drag Rhian backward before she can retaliate. Half the crowd is on their feet, yelling and booing and egging on the fight. The ref is there, arms out and whistle blowing shrilly, but number 16 is out for blood.

“Wanna try that again?” she shouts at Rhian, trying to get past her teammates barring her way, and Rhian shouts back over Nicole’s shoulder, “You better  _hope_ I don’t, bitch. Nic, I swear to fucking  _god_  - ”

“ _Stop_ , Rhian, it’s not worth it,” Nicole says through gritted teeth, and by this time it seems like the ref has managed to separate the teams enough to calm the crowd down a little. And Nicole’s dealt with her fair share of heckling and insults - it’s all part of the sport, for better or worse - so despite the wild anger burning in the pit of her stomach, she’s ready to deal with the consequences of Rhian’s actions and get on with the game until she hears number 16’s final words, which are spit like darts at Nicole.

“She must be your bitch, fighting your battles for you.”

Nicole sees red.

She starts forward, fully prepared to  _give this punk a piece of her fist_ , when, all of a sudden, she spots Waverly Earp in the stands directly in front of her, sitting on the edge of her seat with her hands gripping the ends of her scarf, watching her intently.

Nicole stops dead as their eyes meet, giving Sarah just enough time to grab her arm and pull her back again.

“Come on, Nic,” she pleads, and Nicole’s world snaps back into place. She tears her gaze away from Waverly and lets Sarah lead her back to the rest of the team as the announcer finally makes the call.

“Flagrant foul, Eagles number 9, Rhian Saroyan. Flagrant foul, Raptors number 16, Stephanie Jones. Penalty is ejection for both players!”

The crowd explodes again, and both coaches signal for time-outs as their players are sent off. Rhian doesn’t say a word but shoots them a fierce, unapologetic look as she stalks toward the locker room.

“What the hell happened out there?” Nedley demands as they gather around the bench, but Nicole just shakes her head.

“Let me handle this one,” she says, and Nedley gives her a look but clamps his mouth shut. Nicole heaves a sigh, taking in the faces of her team looking back at her with mixtures of anger and shock. “We can’t change what just happened,” she says, looking each of her teammates in the eye. “But we’ve still got the last quarter, and we’re gonna use it to blow them out. If they wanna play dirty, let ‘em play dirty. We’ll take the fouls and force the mistakes. When that final buzzer goes off, I don’t want there to be any debate about which team had the better game or who deserved to win. We’re taking them down fair and square. Y’all with me?”

There are determined, grim nods all around.

“For Rhian,” Lauren says solemnly. 

“For Rhian,” the rest of the team echoes.

The final quarter ends up being fifteen of the dirtiest and most atrocious minutes of basketball that Nicole has ever had the displeasure of playing. The Raptors commit an unprecedented 11 fouls; Nicole takes an elbow to the ribs that winds her for a minute while Lauren skins both of her knees after a blatant trip, and at one point, Sarah is sent off the court with a bloody nose when one of the Raptors flings the ball at her face. Despite all this, Nicole’s team plays doggedly on, pulling ahead until they’re more than 50 points up.

Fifteen minutes later, Nicole has never been more relieved to hear the final buzzer.

The crowd erupts again, this time with cheering and screaming and the thunderous chant of _Ea-gles! Ea-gles! Ea-gles!_  reverberating in the arena. Lauren bounds over and seizes Nicole around the waist, lifting her in the air and shouting “ _We did it! We finally did it!_ ” into Nicole’s ribs, and she can’t help but grin as she sees her team leaping on each other’s shoulders and flooding the court. Even Nedley is celebrating, abandoning his reserved composure as he flings his hat into the crowd and punches the air with his fist.

Nicole is somber again by the time they reach the locker room, where Rhian is waiting for them. While the team surrounds her with the details, Nicole sidles past them and slumps down in front of her locker to slowly start stripping off her jersey and socks and shoes.

Most of the team has left by the time Rhian makes her way over to Nicole.

“Hey.”

Nicole looks up and knits her eyebrows at the purplish blotch spreading over the right side of Rhian’s chin. “You shouldn’t have done that,” she says tiredly.

“She wasn’t gonna get away with it,” Rhian says stubbornly, crossing her arms. “My only regret is that I didn’t just knock her out the first time.”

Nicole smiles, shaking her head. “I know.”

“You okay, though? I mean, did you know her?”

“Nope. Just tryin’ to get under my skin, I guess.” Nicole shrugs. “Maybe she just felt personally victimized by my overwhelming gayness.”

Rhian barks out a laugh. “Well, you gotta admit, it is a bit much.”

Nicole punches her in the shoulder. “Get out of here.”

“You’re not coming with?” Rhian asks, picking up her bag. “We’re gonna go grab some food at Lou's.”

“I’m just gonna chill here for a sec,” Nicole says, leaning forward a little, resting her elbows on her knees. “You guys go ahead. Maybe I’ll meet you out.”

Rhian nods, heading for the door, but pauses before she steps out. “I’m sorry your last game had to go like that, Nic. You did good, though.”

“Thanks, Rhi. You too.”

The door clicks shut, leaving Nicole alone in the silence of the empty locker room. She presses the heels of her hands into her eyes and sits there for a long while, carefully concentrating on nothing, sinking into the slow, steady throb of her own heartbeat pulsing through her body.

She feels like years might have passed by the time she finally stands back up, stiff with the fatigue and ache that’s settled into her bones, but her watch tells her it’s only been five minutes. With one final sigh, Nicole slings her bag over her shoulder, wincing a little as a sharp dart of pain lances through her ribs, and heads out.

She rounds the corner toward the back entrance, shuffling her feet on the tiles as she scrolls listlessly through the playlists on her phone, and when she looks up she sees a girl standing by the door - a girl bundled in a poofy winter coat, chin tucked in her scarf, glancing up and down the hallway like she’s looking for someone - a girl who looks an awful lot like Waverly Earp.

“Nicole!” Waverly says, relief flooding her face as their eyes meet. She takes a few quick steps forward and they both stop in the middle of the hallway, close enough for Nicole to see the delicate pink flush on Waverly’s cheeks.

“Waverly Earp,” Nicole says with a smile. Her heart is suddenly thudding like she’s back in the game. “You came.”

Waverly tugs on the ends of her scarf and smiles back tentatively. “Yeah. My roommate, Chrissy - turns out she’s a big fan.”

“Ah. Well, it was quite the show you got to see tonight,” Nicole says ruefully. “I’m sorry this had to be your first game. Basketball isn’t usually like that.”

“Yeah…that’s what Chrissy said.” Without warning, Waverly reaches out and places her hand on Nicole’s arm. “It was…kinda scary.”

Nicole stares down at Waverly’s hand and then back at Waverly, and wants to ask her if she knows that she’s starting wildfires where her fingertips brush over Nicole’s skin.

Waverly takes note of Nicole’s surprise and quickly retracts her hand, her cheeks turning a shade darker. “I’m sorry. I just - I was worried about you.”

Nicole swallows hard, shoving her hands in her pockets and trying not to let herself read too much into it, adding Waverly’s unspoken words in her head -  _as a friend. I was worried about you as a friend._

She laughs a little to cover up the fact that her heart is sinking into her stomach. “It’s okay. I’m okay. All just part of the game.”

Waverly shakes her head adamantly, her gaze earnestly fixed on Nicole. “It wasn’t. Just part of the game, I mean. I know what that girl said and it - it was  _horrible_!”

“You know what she said?” Nicole repeats in surprise.

Waverly fidgets. “I can, um…I can read lips.”

Nicole can’t help but smile a little at that -  _of course you can_. She shrugs, hoping her nonchalance is more convincing to Waverly than it is to herself. “She was just tryin’ to get a rise out of me. Shame that’s what she thought she had to resort to, but it is what it is. Wasn’t my first rodeo and probably won’t be my last.”

Waverly reaches out again, almost like she’s not aware of what she’s doing, except this time she takes Nicole’s hand in hers. “I’m sorry, Nicole,” she says softly.

Nicole stares down at her hand clasped in Waverly’s, wondering with a vague sense of detachment how it hasn’t burst into flames yet. And there’s a part of her that just wants to  _give in already_ , to cave and fall forward into Waverly’s space, and it’s waging war with the sensible part of her that’s telling her to pull back; but there’s also a third part that is simply  _tired_. Tired of the dull ache in her chest that’s from more than just fatigue; tired of trying to control every fiber of every muscle every time Waverly stands this close to her; tired of trying to maintain this precarious balancing act between being bold and being respectful  _because Waverly has a boyfriend_.

And it just seems so incredibly unfair, in this moment, that Nicole has to stand here in front of this beautiful, gorgeous girl - a girl who’s looking up at her with the kind of concern and worry that Nicole truly wants to believe is more than platonic - and know that the right thing to do is walk away.

The ache in Nicole’s ribs seems to intensify, and she decides that she’s fought enough battles for one day. 

“It’s okay,” she says, gently pulling her hand from Waverly’s grasp. “You don’t have to worry about me.” She points instead to Waverly’s other hand, which is holding Nicole’s sweatshirt. “I can take that off your hands now, as promised.”

“Oh,” Waverly says uncertainly, and Nicole tries very, very hard to ignore the confused and hurt expression on Waverly’s face as she reclaims her sweatshirt.

“Thanks again for coming,” she says, with the biggest smile she can muster. “I’m sure I’ll be seein’ you around.”

Waverly just nods a little. “Oh, um, yeah. G-goodnight.”

“Hope you get home safe,” Nicole says, and pushes forward through the doors, determined not to look back.

She trudges down the steps toward the parking lot, trying to push aside the squeezing ache in her chest, but she barely makes it half a dozen yards before she’s startled by the sound of the doors slamming open again. She turns around to see Waverly charging through them, the ends of her scarf streaming behind her. She stops abruptly on the last step with her hands on her hips.

“That’s it?” she demands.

Nicole feels her mouth drop open a little. “I- I’m sorry…?”

Waverly hops down the last step, closing the gap between them, her breath misting the air. “Yesterday, at the track, you said all that stuff about how you’re a fighter,” she says, flapping the arms of her coat a little, “and how you’ve always fought for what you wanted. And tonight, I watched you stand your ground against a bully who said some horrible, hurtful things to you, and instead of punching her teeth out - which, by the way, I probably would’ve done if I’d been down there - you took that negative energy and used it to _destroy_  a rival team that you haven’t beaten in four years in front of, like, a thousand people. So you can fight for all that, but with this - after the whole thing with the coffee, and the library, and yesterday, and your- your  _freaking sweatshirt_  - after all that, after tonight, you’re just - giving  _up_?”

For a moment, Nicole can only blink. She doesn’t even know if she’s sure what Waverly’s talking about, but she says the only thing that remotely makes sense. “I…I thought you had a boyfriend?”

Waverly looks flustered now, but her eyes are bright with determination and she barrels on. “Well, I did. But now I don’t. He was kind of a dick. Well, kind of a  _lot_ a dick. I’m from a small town, you know, and he just had these ideas of how things should be, and how  _I_  should be, and I finally realized I’m not really okay with that, and that I” - she pauses for a moment, eyes locked on Nicole’s - “I deserve better.”

Nicole wonders if she’s dreaming. Or hallucinating. Either way, she’s pretty sure that she’d like to stay in this version of reality forever.

Waverly flaps her arms again, looking a little desperate now. “Feel free to chip in at any time, Nicole. Because I’m feeling a little crazy right now, and I could’ve sworn I wasn’t making any of this up but I don’t - I mean, I’ve never done this before, so this could all just be a huge misunderstanding, and -”

“You do,” Nicole interrupts. “Deserve better, I mean.”

Waverly stops flapping and ducks her chin into her scarves, suddenly shy. 

Nicole feels a smile spreading over her face and she shifts her bag a little higher on her shoulder, all the aches and bruises from the game forgotten. “You deserve the world, Waverly Earp,” she says. “And you’re not crazy. Well, no crazier than anyone else who goes around advertising themselves as landfills. Kidding, kidding,” she adds hastily as Waverly starts to sputter indignantly.

“Always with the teasing,” Waverly says with a disgruntled huff, but the corners of her eyes are crinkled in a smile and Nicole thinks her heart might actually burst. Waverly scuffs the toe of her shoe on the ground. “I’m, um…I’m sorry for yelling at you,” she says sheepishly.

Nicole just grins. “It’s okay. Maybe you can make up for it with some of those chocolate chip cookies you spoke so highly of yesterday.”

“I can definitely do that,” Waverly nods. “I can bring them to the coffee shop on Monday. They’ll go great with coffee.”

“Oh, no,” Nicole says seriously, shaking her head as the boldness takes hold of her again. “I’m afraid your apology is invalid unless cookies are had right away.”

Waverly looks at her, startled. “Like- right now?”

“Unless you’ve got something better to do with your Saturday night?” Nicole says, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, I - I just - um, I mean - I don’t have anything to make them with,” Waverly stutters. “I’d have to go to the store and everything, and I don’t have a car, and - “

Nicole laughs as she holds her hands up to stop Waverly’s flustered rambling. “Okay, we can save the cookies for tomorrow. How about you just buy me a drink tonight?”

A warm, bashful smile spreads over Waverly’s face as she tugs on her scarf again. “I guess I can do that.”

“Good,” Nicole grins, gesturing toward her car, and Waverly giggles when Nicole sweeps past to open the door for her. “So it’s a date?”

Waverly brushes past Nicole as she gets into the passenger seat, and when she looks back up she’s smiling her shy, sweet smile with her chin ducked into her scarf and Nicole decides that if this isn’t a dream or a hallucination, then it must definitely be heaven. 

“It’s a date.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nicole is basically famous and waverly tries to figure out how this date thing works. fluffy stuff ensues. the fifth and final installment of a wayhaught college au.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all right guys, this is it. my sincere thanks go out to all of you for reading and following this story, with a special shout out to @leftpawedpolarbear for being such a great beta. comments/suggestions are always welcome, and you can also talk to me and be my friend on tumblr (onlyone-cannoli). as always, happy reading :)

V. Waverly

Waverly wakes up the next morning bleary-eyed and groggy, and when she rolls over she’s startled half to death by the sight of Chrissy standing over her, arms crossed and foot tapping on the floor, face slightly scrunched up in a look of mixed curiosity and disapproval.

“ _Jesus_ , Chris,” Waverly croaks, clutching her chest and flopping back on the bed. She presses the heels of her hands into her eyes and lets out a long, protracted groan - it feels like she’s barely slept an hour or two. “What are you doing?”

“I’m worried,” Chrissy says, her tone suggesting that by  _worried_  she mostly means  _suspicious_. “Two and a half years living with you and I’ve never seen you wake up later than seven, and here you are passed out cold at half past nine.”

 _Half past nine?_ The words propel Waverly forward and she sits bolt upright with a squeal of distress, stumbling out of bed to her desk. “Shit!”

“How late were you even out last night?” Chrissy demands, hovering inconveniently as Waverly scrambles around, haphazardly throwing books and papers into her bag. 

“Umm,” Waverly says as she freezes in the middle of the room, trying to remember where she’d put her laptop. “Like…three, I guess?”

She honestly doesn’t even know how it had gotten that late. They’d barely had anything to drink at Lou’s, and Waverly considered it to be less of a date and more of just… _hanging out_ , because Nicole’s entire team had ended up at the bar and the night had turned into a celebration as they dragged Nicole and Waverly into the revelries. But when the bar closed at one, Nicole had insisted on driving her home (even though Lou’s was just off campus and barely a five minute walk from the dorms), and they ended up sitting in Nicole’s car and talking for another hour or two, at which point Nicole had  _also_  insisted on walking Waverly from the parking lot up to her door - proving to be more chivalrous in one night than Champ had ever been in four years.

“ _Three?_ ” Chrissy says excitedly. “God, you skank, you partied without me! Also -  _what_  is wrong with you right now?” she adds as Waverly suddenly pushes past her to grab the laptop she’s just spotted on a chair.

“I’m late,” Waverly says impatiently, zipping up her bag and casting around for a clean change of clothes. “I have three papers to write before Wednesday and Professor Callahan wanted the rough draft of the manuscript by next Friday and I haven’t even read  _half_  the books she recommended!”

“You’ll be fine,” Chrissy says with a dismissive wave. “Going back to what’s important here - you were out with someone last night.”

“I was out with a  _lot_  of someones,” Waverly says, rolling her eyes as she tugs on a sweater. “It was a bar. Ugh, I need coffee.”

Chrissy whacks her arm. “Stop being difficult, you know what I mean. You basically disappeared right after the game, you were out all night, you overslept for what I’m assuming is the first time in your life” - it’s Waverly’s turn to whack Chrissy - “and whatever you’re thinking about right now is making you blush. You were  _with_  someone.”

“I am  _not_  blushing,” Waverly says indignantly, quickly turning away from Chrissy. “I was just - with a  _friend_ , and I overslept because I came back late and I’m  _human_ , and now, I’m  _leaving_.” She grabs her coat and sidesteps out the door, hoping to escape the interrogation and Chrissy’s dogged onslaught of questions, but to her dismay, Chrissy follows her outside.

“Where are  _you_  going?” she asks as they make a quick detour downstairs to the cafe, where they both grab a cup of coffee before heading outside.

“Stupid writers’ and editors’ meeting for the paper,” Chrissy says, making a face. “Don’t even get me started.”

“Still that problem with the formatting?” Waverly asks, with every intention of getting her started on anything that isn’t Waverly’s love life.

“There's no problem with the formatting,” Chrissy says crossly as they slog their way through half-plowed sidewalks toward the library. “The  _problem_  is they’re making us  _re_ format the articles and condense everything because the school is jacking up the price of paper and ink. Roger wants to start some petition to send to the budget office to protest, except that’s pointless because they’re not the source of the issue, ya know, it’s the overall  _administration_ …”

Chrissy continues on her rant and Waverly takes the opportunity to zone out a little, panicking under the surface about all the work ahead of her. She’d been planning on spending at  _least_  ten hours in the library today, especially if she was going to make good on the promise to bake cookies at Nicole’s tomorrow tonight.

Waverly pauses for a moment, blushing again as she recalls making those particular plans. She’d originally mentally marked it down as another date, but the more she considers it the more she’s forced to question the assumption; Nicole very well could have just been agreeing to a night of  _friendly_  cookie-baking. She hadn’t exactly specified, and although Waverly’s fairly certain that there’s been enough overt flirting by now, Nicole always seems to have that slight teasing quality to everything she says that makes it impossible to tell.

Waverly just doesn’t know how all of this is supposed to  _work_  - which is both frustrating and marginally terrifying - and she can’t help feeling like every step she takes is another blind shot in the dark. The only thing she knows for sure, at this point, is that she’s smitten. Well,  _more_  than smitten. Head over heels, one might say, if one were a romantic - which Waverly is  _not_. She loves romance just as much as the next girl, sure, but she’s also realistic, and  _realistically_  she’s just as sure that her papers aren’t going to write themselves. Especially not while she’s daydreaming about redheads.

Which brings her to her _other_ problem of trying to figure out how to focus on anything school-related when she can’t even stop thinking about said redhead. Even as she sips her coffee, nodding intermittently to encourage Chrissy’s ongoing critique of the administration, her thoughts start wandering toward the events of last night.

She’s already accepted that the way her heart flutters when Nicole flashes her dimples is simply something she’ll have to live with for the rest of her life; and of course, Nicole’s smile is almost always radiantly contagious and nothing short of breathtaking, but it had somehow seemed different last night. Like Nicole had been  _extra_  happy whenever her eyes met Waverly’s, and her face had gotten a little softer, her eyes crinkling just a little more around the edges, when she grinned at her.

And then there’s the way she’d stood in front of Waverly’s door to bid her goodnight, leaning against the doorframe on one shoulder, radiating charm and confidence; the way she’d said,  _I had a really great time tonight,_  her voice a little low, a little husky from all the yelling at the bar, her face soft again, the way Waverly remembered her skin felt under her fingertips.

Waverly wonders if she should have kissed her.

“ - are _lovestruck_ ,” Chrissy is saying when Waverly finally tunes back into reality.

“What?” she says quickly.

Chrissy rolls her eyes. “Case in point.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Waverly sniffs, nonchalantly taking a sip of her coffee. The library is in sight now and she speeds up a little, hoping to part ways with Chrissy sooner rather than later.

“Puh- _lease_ ,” Chrissy says. “If there’s anything I know, it’s how to recognize a girl who’s lovestruck, and you, my friend, are completely gone.”

“I am no such thing,” Waverly says stubbornly, but even as she says the words her cheeks betray her, flushing hot against the winter chill as goosebumps ghost over her arms.

“You totally are, one hundred percent,” Chrissy says matter-of-factly as they reach the front entrance of the library. Waverly is so busy cursing her traitorous cheeks that she doesn’t notice the girl walking out, and almost crashes headlong into the door.

“Whoa, sorry, didn’t see you there,” a familiar voice says. Strong hands catch her by the arm to steady her, and Waverly glances up to find Nicole’s warm brown eyes looking back down at her.

“Waverly Earp,” Nicole says, flashing that familiar heart-fluttering grin. “Long time no see.”

“Nicole!” Waverly blurts in surprise. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

“Oh, just returning a book. And hoping to run into you, of course.” She winks and Waverly swears she feels momentarily lightheaded, her face getting redder by the second, and she takes another moment to curse her cheeks again.

“Well, guess today’s your lucky day,” she manages to reply, determined not to melt into a puddle of lovestruck giddiness in front of Chrissy.

“Guess so,” Nicole smiles. “You’re here to work on your papers?”

“Unfortunately,” Waverly says, heaving a sigh. “And I’m getting kind of a late start.”

“Oh, I guess that’s partially my fault,” Nicole says sheepishly. “Sorry again for keeping you out so late.”

“No, please, don’t apologize,” Waverly says quickly. “I - I had a lot of fun.”

“Good,” Nicole says, looking relieved. “Me too.”

There’s a beat where they just stand there smiling at each other, until a small  _ahem_  breaks the silence.

“Oh,” Waverly says, suddenly remembering that Chrissy is still standing next to her. “Nicole, this is my roommate, Chrissy. Chrissy, this is - “

“Nicole Haught,” Chrissy interrupts, practically shouldering Waverly out of the way in her eagerness to shake Nicole's hand. Waverly has to stifle her laughter at the way Nicole’s eyebrows shoot up as Chrissy vigorously pumps her hand up and down.

“That was an  _amazing_  game last night,” Chrissy gushes, never relinquishing her grip. “I mean it was terrible how dirty the Raptors were playing, but you guys just battled through like it was  _nothing_  - and that fight! Really a shame about Saroyan, of course, but you guys just  _dominated_  after that, I mean, really - just amazing. And you added another seven to your free throw record and you’re up to 82 on your three pointers for the season, that puts you in the top ten for the WNBA!”

“Wow,” Nicole says with an embarrassed laugh, rubbing the back of her neck with her free hand. “I, uh...I didn’t know that. Thanks.”

Chrissy stops abruptly, as if she’s just noticed that she’s still shaking Nicole’s hand. She quickly lets go, looking appropriately flustered, but it doesn’t stop her from asking in hushed awe, “Can I - can I get an autograph?”

Waverly groans inwardly, resisting the urge to slap her palm against her forehead, but Nicole just grins. “That’s incredibly flattering for you to ask,” she says. “I’d be honored to.”

Waverly swears she’s never seen Chrissy look so thrilled, which is why she grudgingly decides to forgive her this  _one time_  when she subsequently jabs an elbow into Waverly’s ribs. “Wave, you got any paper?”

Waverly rolls her eyes, mouthing the word  _sorry_  to Nicole behind Chrissy’s back as she fishes out paper and a pen from her bag.

“Chrissy with a C, right?” Nicole says, and Waverly half expects Chrissy to combust from excitement as she watches Nicole scribble out a message and sign her name underneath.

“Thank you, so much,” Chrissy breathes, reverently accepting the paper like she’s handling the original Magna Carta. She continues to stare at it, looking severely awestruck with her mouth hanging slightly open, and Waverly decides she’s had enough.

“Hey, uh…Chris,” she says, poking Chrissy in the side. “Don’t you have a meeting to go to?”

Chrissy jumps out of her daze like she’s been jolted out of a dream. “Oh, shit, yeah. Um, thank you again, Nicole, it was amazing to finally meet you in person. Thank you  _so_  much for the autograph.” She carefully slips the precious document into her pocket and gives Nicole’s hand one last overzealous shake before running off toward the College Commons.

Nicole watches her go, rubbing her shoulder before she turns back to Waverly. “Wow, Chrissy is…”

“A  _really_  big fan,” Waverly finishes for her, and they both burst out laughing.

“I guess this means I can cross ‘getting asked for an autograph’ off my bucket list,” Nicole says when she regains her composure.

Waverly raises an eyebrow. “That  _would_  be on your bucket list.”

Nicole looks indignant. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing, just that you do a pretty good job living up to your name,  _Haughtshot_ ,” Waverly giggles, pleased that she’s the one doing the teasing for a change.

“All right, you got me there,” Nicole grins. “I’ll give you fair warning though, I like being a hotshot at everything, including cookie baking, so prepare yourself. Speaking of which, are we still good for tomorrow night?”

Waverly flicks the lid of her coffee cup with her finger. “Um...yes. I mean - I would love to. But I think it’ll all kind of depend on how much work I can get done today.”

“Well, I guess it’s in my best interests to let you get started, then,” Nicole says, grinning broadly. “And actually I’ve got a meeting too, so I should probably get going.”

“Oh, okay,” Waverly says, surprised at how crestfallen she feels that Nicole is already leaving.

“I’ve got some work to finish later, though,” Nicole continues. “Maybe I’ll come back and join you, if you don’t mind the company?”

“No, I wouldn’t mind at all,” Waverly says quickly. “I - I’d like that a lot, actually.”

Nicole nods, and she’s grinning again, but it’s different than it was before - different from that teasing grin. It’s softer, maybe, like it had been last night, and her eyes seem softer, too, and Waverly thinks that maybe she wouldn’t mind drowning in them.

“Perfect,” Nicole says. “And I’ll bring some coffee as a pick-me-up.”

Waverly gives her half-empty coffee cup a little shake. “That’d be great, because this probably isn’t going to cut it.”

“Sounds like a plan, Waverly Earp,” Nicole grins. “I’ll see you later then. Good luck with your papers!”

Waverly is only partially aware of the big, dumb smile spreading across her face as she watches Nicole head out toward the Commons, but she finds it hard to really care about how goofy she might look when there’s so much giddiness bubbling up inside of her. She walks into the library, practically skipping up the stairs like a small child, and sets herself up at her usual spot on the third floor with renewed motivation to finish her work.

* * *

Seven hours later, Waverly jerks herself awake for the third time in the past half hour and can’t help the yawn that escapes her.

She shakes her head, trying to rattle the sleep out of her brain, when she suddenly notices a cup of coffee sitting before her, along with a small pile of sugar packets and milk. Scrawled on the cup in bright blue ink is her name,  _Waverly Earp_.

Waverly quickly looks around, pulling the cup toward her (still hot), but the only other person in sight is a boy on the other end of the history stacks, his nodding head threatening to hit the wall at any second.

Grinning, she snaps a quick picture of the coffee and opens up a message to Nicole.

_Waverly, 5:13: I don’t suppose you’re the culprit behind this delivery and dash…_

Nicole replies barely a minute later.

_Nicole, 5:14: Hope you've got some evidence to back up that accusation, Waverly Earp._

Waverly feels another dopey smile splitting her face as she types.

_Waverly, 5:14: Well, considering the blue ink on this cup is the exact shade of the pen you stole from me earlier, I’d say you’re definitely the top suspect._

Nicole’s next three replies come in rapid succession.

_Nicole, 5:16: Guilty as charged :)_

_Nicole, 5:16: I got roped into some stuff with the athletics department and I probably won’t be done for another hour or two, but I didn’t want to leave you hanging without coffee._

_Nicole, 5:16: And you looked so peaceful nodding off, didn’t want to wake you :)_

_Waverly, 5:18: Thank you, you really didn’t have to. And I’m so embarrassed…I hope I wasn’t drooling._

_Nicole, 5:21: Only a little. Barely noticeable, really. And sorry about the pile, I didn’t know how you took your coffee so I brought you a little bit of everything._

Waverly brushes her thumb over her name scribbled on the cup, thinking that she likes the way it looks in Nicole’s handwriting, and decides that she doesn’t want to take the chance that Nicole thinks cookie-baking _isn’t_  a date. She smiles to herself, feeling the familiar fluttering her chest as she types out her next message. _  
_

_Waverly, 5:25: Well, maybe I’ll tell you over that coffee date I owe you._

Nicole’s reply is almost immediate.

_Nicole, 5:25: You buying?_

_Waverly, 5:26: As long as we go anywhere other than Sam’s._

_Nicole, 5:27: Oh, I think we can arrange that._

_Waverly, 5:29: Good. How about tonight?_

_Nicole, 5:29: It’s a date, Waverly Earp :)_


End file.
